2000
by Telenovela15
Summary: Will the year 2000 be as exciting as yearbook anticipated for our favorite MSCL characters?
1. Chapter 1

2000

10,…9,…..8,…..7,…6.. Rickie looked around the Chelsea loft filled with bright, shiny, hip people and tried to smile. This was Millennium Eve and he knew that he ought to generate some enthusiasm within himself for the hope and promise of a new century. Some of his friends had gone to Times Square to celebrate, but Rickie couldn't face the cold harshness of the December night. Was he mad to miss such an iconic moment in such an iconic place? He was in the most exciting city in the world, surrounded by sensitive, artistic individuals who accepted him for who he was and valued his creative input, why shouldn't he be happy and keen to embrace all that was to come in the 2000s? After all, he HAD escaped Pittsburgh and the awkwardness of being an gay ugly duckling amid a very small pond of normal, conventional , suburban ducks, hadn't he? He had got to New York and, by some miracle, managed to become an apprentice to Fernando Goncalves, one of the hottest young designers who had just opened his first boutique in the Meatpacking District. Rickie was doing a job he loved, mixing with the most interesting, tolerant people and living in a place where he could walk down the street wearing whatever he wanted without any Manhattanite so much as raising an eyebrow. He loved that- he loved the anonymity of New York, the melting pot, the electric buzz in the air that made you feel like you could do anything, be anyone. Here, there was no judgment, no convention, no stifling norms. Of one thing Rickie was 100% sure- he was NEVER going back to Pittsburgh, never going back to being made feel like a freak or pariah by his fractured, messed-up, distant family, never returning to the jeers, the bullying , the shaming that he had felt in Salem on the Monongahela! Rickie inhaled deeply and tried not to think of Eric- beautiful, kind, impossibly handsome Eric. Eric, who he had met six months ago at one of Fernando's artistic friends' innumerable gallery openings. Eric, who he had enjoyed countless passionate afternoons with in chic West Village hotels. Eric, the gorgeous Grecian god from Iowa who Rickie had entertained all sorts of fantasies about settling down with in his romantic, suburban, conventional, albeit homosexual mind. He had imagined that they could go on vacation to Europe together, visiting Paris, the fashion capital of the Old World, and then on to Rome and Florence which Fernando had said were must-sees for anyone serious about his artistic development or growth. Then he and Eric would buy a loft in an old Victorian brownstone in the Village and completely renovate it. Rickie would have relished the opportunity to put his design skills to the test there- the perfect mix of nostalgic chic and modern comfort! Maybe they could eventually get married if the State ever got round to broadening the scope of Mayor Giuliani's domestic partnership law. But now, all those naïve, hopeful dreams were shattered like some priceless Renaissance sculpture ground into dust….. Rickie tried not to let the tears come as all around him his new friends laughed and hugged and began to sing 'Auld Lang Syne'…. "Should old acquaintance be forgot"? Yes, Eric must be forgotten ! Today's humiliation must be erased from memory! At 1:30pm earlier today, Rickie had gone with two of the fashion interns to Brooklyn to pick up some new sewing machines. They had been carrying boxes and bags full of sewing supplies to a waiting truck when Rickie had almost collided with a young mother wheeling a stroller down the sidewalk with a small blonde child walking by her side. He had apologized to the woman and continued helping the others when he was startled by the woman's voice calling someone on the other side of the street: "Eric honey ,wait by the diner! We'll cross here!" Rickie had looked toward the man on the other side of the street and instantly froze. 'Eric' was his Eric! Only this man was lifting the small child in his arms and kissing the mother on her cheek. A million thoughts ran through Rickie's mind at that moment… was the woman Eric's sister, cousin, platonic single mother friend? That consolation was denied him as he heard the toddler laugh and say, "Daddy , can I get cookie ice-cream, puhleeze?". One look at the child's cherubic features and blonde locks should have been enough to convince even someone as delusionally romantic as Rickie that the kid was Eric's. Eric was a married man- a conventional, Brooklynite married man who lived a double-life- wife , kids and diners on weekends and holidays and secret gay lunchtime trysts in the West Village on weekdays. Eric was a cliché and Rickie was the 'gay lover' cliché- the 'bit on the side', the subplot to the charade of Eric's closeted life. Humiliation, anger, sadness, despair- Rickie's emotions ran the full gamut in the 10 seconds it took him to turn around and head back into the sewing machine warehouse. Rickie may have been a gullible romantic but even he knew the rules- if Eric chose to remain in the closet, that was his decision. Rickie wouldn't, couldn't destroy the happiness of his wife and kids by suddenly appearing on the scene like some gay boogeyman! His only option was to exit gracefully with whatever was left of his dignity intact. The alternative, becoming a willing accomplice in Eric's deception and hypocrisy was unthinkable! No, Rickie must forget him! There would be months of tears, emptiness and heartache ahead, but that was the price you paid for 'doing the right thing'. As the countdown to a new era continued, Rickie realized that even his unconventional life here in Salem on the Hudson had its conventions- the same old prejudices still existed, the same shame haunted his life, he still didn't 'fit', he still felt like the freak of the piece…5...4…3…2….1


	2. Chapter 2

2000

10,…9,…8,…7,….6,… It was weird to be back home counting down such a momentous occasion in the cozy familiarity of her mother's house. Because that's what it was now: not her house, not Mom and Dad's house, but simply, her mother's house. Angela wondered how she could look around her childhood home and somehow see all the same old objects with new eyes. They were familiar, warm and soothing but yet she was jarred by their inertia. She had changed, but they had not. The same books still sat on the shelves, the same tacky pictures still hung on the walls, the same TV still flickered before their eyes. Angela felt a momentary pang of guilt- cutbacks since the printer's recent troubles and the cost of her college tuition had made it impossible for Patti Chase to upgrade to a newer model. Not that Angela's father had had that problem! He had quite seamlessly upgraded his wife, his home and his career and was happily ringing in the new millennium with Hallie in some yuppie condo in Shadyside! Angela was now a divorced kid of 20 shuttling back and forth from Mom's to Dad's on the brief occasions when she did return to Pittsburgh. Since she started college, she figured she could count on one hand the number of times she had come back here- two Christmases, maybe and one Thanksgiving. Luckily, her Mom didn't seem to mind if she missed the odd holiday. All the extra work at the printer's since Grandpa's death had made Patti less inclined to devote huge amounts of time to planning family get-togethers. And Brian didn't seem to mind either- he was quite prepared to make the 300-mile drive to see her in Philly every other weekend. "The poor guy must really love me!" Angela laughed to herself. She knew he was extremely busy with projects, classes and internship applications but he never questioned or resented her unwillingness to return to Pittsburgh more often. The truth was that she relished the escape from all the bitterness and hurt surrounding the implosion of her parents' marriage. She loved not having to think about the last four years and all the anguish and upset her Dad's affair with Hallie had caused. At Penn, she could immerse herself in Renaissance drama or the 19th Century British novel, thesis preparation and emailing her English friends about Shakepeare's true identity or the best places to get cheesesteak when they finally made the trip to Philadelphia. Academe and college life were a welcome change from divorce and marital strife! A semester studying in London had also helped escape the acrimony of her parents' split. Angela had thoroughly enjoyed the four months spent at King's College- she loved being surrounded by history, within walking distance of the Globe Theater and St. Paul's Cathedral, riding the subway (which Londoners hilariously referred to as 'The Tube') and visiting the places her favorite writers had actually lived and breathed in. Brian had made the trip over to see her and they had visited Oxford, Bath and even the Scottish highlands where they had drunk whisky in the same inn as Robert Burns! Being able to drink alcohol was another great perk of studying in Europe! Angela hadn't got to the stage of vomiting in the street or passing out like many of her friends from the States who had over-indulged once they were free of the shackles of US prohibition for the under-21s, but she had to admit that her memory of much of her time in Scotland was pretty hazy. Whisky was, like, twenty times more potent than beer and she had drunk a lot! In her defense, it was part of research –she was supposed to be learning about the lives of poets and their sources of inspiration, wasn't she? She had learned a lot from books too and felt better prepared to start tackling her thesis once the new semester began back at Penn. She reminded herself to email her advisor about her final decision on a subject before January 4th…. January 4th, 2000- it felt weird to think that that date was so near at hand! It was strange that people actually believed that something so simple as a change of date could somehow miraculously alter their lives for the better! Dates? Angela began to think about something she had seen (or not seen) when leafing through her soon-to-be outdated diary earlier today. Normally she would expect to see a black dot appear on the corner of one date per month. A black ink circle she would make with her pen once her period arrived. Now that she thought about it, she hadn't seen that dot for over six weeks… 5…4…3…2…1


	3. Chapter 3

2000

10,…9,...8,...7,...6,….. Rayanne took another swig from the bottle and squinted out over the black ocean. She could see nothing. What the f*#k was she even doing here? Weren't they meant to be in like Santa Monica? She couldn't see any lights, Ferris wheels or roller coasters. Weren't there supposed to be, like, fireworks and stuff? She had only agreed to leave the rave because she figured Tony or Phil or whatever his name was would have like VIP passes to see the Eagles or whatever. Crap! Where the hell were they? She nudged Tony or Phil with her elbow but he was totally out of it with his arms outstretched on the sand. Shit! He was snoring now! "Hey, wake up! It's nearly midnight!" Rayanne yelled but the guy (whoever he was) didn't respond. She took another gulp of vodka and tried to figure out how she was going to stand up. She had this fantasy that for New Year's Eve she would be like frolicking around in the ocean with some really hot surfer guy with like champagne bottles and serious quantities of drugs- the perfect cocktail of 'Sex on the Beach' and ..em,.. .em, …'Zombie'! Hehehehee! Zombie! Ahahahaa! She soooo felt like a zombie right now! Heheheeee! "That's fun, Tony, right? Rayanne the Zombie!" Not Rayanne the superstar actress, no! Not Rayanne the new fresh talent on the Hollywood scene, no! Only Rayanne, the Zombie! Heheheehee! More vodka, please! Rayanne sniffed and tried to remember exactly how many lines she had done tonight. Not enough obviously because she really didn't feel that 'up' yet! It was harder than before to feel happy or high or alive. When she first got to LA, she had felt totally psyched and ready to take Hollywood down. But two years of auditioning and bar tending and palm reading and agent searches had left her feeling pretty f*%king drained. Not that she hadn't lived a shitload of life! I mean LA, the like lifestyle was awesome. Hahaha! 'Awesome'! Rayanne, the California girl! Hahaha! She had met some really cool people, like parties and mingling and drugs and more drugs and it was all really 'awesome'! Ugh! To think that Rickie, Rickie, Rickie Vasquez was like worried about her and wanted her to go visit him in New York for New Year's! I mean New York- what the f*#k did New York have that LA didn't- like bad weather and higher rents!? Please, Enrique, Rayanne didn't need New York! And Angela Chase? Angela Chase had wanted her to come back to Pittsburgh for like a 'family get-together'! They weren't even related! And since when had Angelika even used words like 'get-together'? Rayanne assumed it must be Krakow's influence. Angela was like dating Brian Krakow now which was so like totally disgusting that Rayanne couldn't even contemplate it! Did dull guys like that even have sex? Rayanne hoped not because the level of grossness would be like beyond gross. He probably talked about like math and stuff during. His entire relationship with Angela was probably based on like lame cuddling and movie nights! And 'get-togethers'! Hahahaha !I mean, really! Angela Chase should be dating some cool hot guy like Jordan Catalano. I mean, Jordan Catalano was JORDAN CATALANO! Rayanne sniffed again. She pointed a finger in the air. That whole mess was totally her fault though-yeah- if she hadn't banged Jordan sophomore year, Angela never would have broke up with him and would not now be like reduced to boring math guy! Good job, Rayanne! Another mess down to you! That's probably what Amber would say now if she was here. Amber hadn't visited her once in all her time in California which sucked because Amber was basically her only family. More vodka, please, bartender! Dadless , Rayanne! The last Rayanne had heard from Amber was that her Dad was somewhere in California so when she first got here, she had expected to meet him in some bar near Venice Beach. She imagined he would be this like cool aged hippy but still totally cool. You know, like, Pete Townsend or Don Henley or Sting. That'd be cool! They could go like surfing and he would let her sing in his band at the Troubadour and he would have all these Hollywood contacts who'd get her auditions for like cool indie movies or HBO shows. The closest Rayanne had got to TV was playing a corpse on some episode of 'Roswell' which sucked because she knew she had the range to tackle like a serious alien role. Rayanne, the Extraterrestrial! Hahahahee! Knowing Amber's taste in men though, her Dad was more likely to be some Charles Manson- type banged up in San Quentin or still protesting the Vietnam War with other junkies and homeless guys in Venice. Like father, like daughter! Yeah... She really needed to get her life together for like the millionth time this year, no, nnnnnext year! Yeah! Rehab was what the stars did when they'd partied too much, wasn't it? Did Rayanne want that? No more fun, no more 'life in the fast lane', just dull boring sobriety? She was only 20 for God's sake! Was she really expected to have it all figured out yet? Sniff, sniff. Gulp, gulp. No, no! Rayanne decided she still had a few more parties left in her once Tony or Phil or whoever woke up and they could go celebrate the New Year somewhere that wasn't so dark….5,…4,….3,….2,….1


	4. Chapter 4

2000

Juu,…kyuu,..hachi,...shichi,…roku,…Jordan wiped his hand across his brow and strained his eyes to look up at the ceiling. This was the weirdest place he'd ever been and he wondered how long before this crazy tiredness wore off and he started to feel like himself again. Seriously, how the hell had Tino even got him to this place? All around like a million lights were flashing and music was blaring and causing the ground to shake. Jordan felt sick. He had been to enough clubs in his life but this was like some frickin' E crazy clown dream or somethin'- it was so weird and Jordan couldn't understand a word anyone around him was saying. He hadn't even done any drugs yet and he still felt like he was on the worst frickin' trip of his life! Where was Tino anyway? Wasn't he supposed to be deejaying here tonight? Jordan pushed past a bunch of drunk kids who were like yelling and dancing to some crappy Europop shit on the speakers and tried to look for his friend. Surely Tino's set hadn't started yet? He wouldn't play this trash, would he? He never knew with Tino, though- the guy had changed since graduation. He was all into like meditation and shit now and he had this new Japanese girlfriend who the other guys in the band called 'Yoko'. That was kinda weird because Tino had told him that the girl's name was Satoe or somethin'. So who the f*#k was 'Yoko',then? All this foreign language stuff was too hard for Jordan to deal with. I mean English or whatever was bad enough and now Jordan couldn't even make out the letters on the signs and billboards in this place. Where was the way out? Tino shoulda told him that they talked a different language in Japan. I mean the guy seemed to know what he was doin', right? He had sorted out Jordan's passport stuff and like papers and flights and tickets, how had he missed the reading thing? Jordan sighed, found the exit and went outside to get some air. He was leaning against a wall in some alley at the back of the club taking the first precious drags of his first cigarette in like 14 hours when he saw Tino coming toward him with some Japanese chick who was probably this 'Yoko' girl. "Hey man! I finally f*#kin' find you! Why didn't ya wait at the airport like I said?" Jordan shrugged. He didn't like making plans and meeting times and shit. Didn't Tino know that? "Well, you're here now bro! Tokyo! You're gonna love it! Hot ass in every frickin' direction!" Tino emphasized the truth of this statement by draping his arms around Yoko who immediately bared her breasts from beneath her neon tank top. "Didn't I tell ya? The classiest girls in the world man! Better than all those Pittsburgh skanks put together!" Jordan shrugged again while Tino took a few puffs from his cigarette. "Ah! American tobacco! The one thing I miss about the Pitts! Marlboro are like 18 bucks here! So anyway, bro, how ya been?" Jordan inhaled and sniffed the humid air, he'd been ok he supposed. What the f*#k was with Tino anyway? He was so like hyped up or somethin'. Was he back using E? Jordan didn't need more of Tino's creative bullshit right now. He had come to this crazy weird place cos he thought Tino had finally got them a record deal. After a ton of like breakups and fights and shit they had finally re-formed their band under the new name of 'Scarlett Mutants'. Jordan had come up with that and he was pretty frickin' proud of it. He had been stoned out of his head at some like weird porn theater and had seen this movie with like these mutant chicks having sex with this like guy in like an old army costume or somethin'. Anyway, the guy had kept saying this girl Scarlett's name and like panting and shit and Jordan had thought in his spaced out way that the name 'Scarlett Mutants' would be cool for their band. Tino was like into getting them established with some execs he knew at this place that made like CDs and arranged gigs for US groups overseas. The details were pretty vague but Tino had assured all four of 'em that they would definitely get in a recording studio and tour with some big groups. "Like Nirvana and shit?" Jordan had asked but Tino had immediately laughed and said that Nirvana was over, grunge was over and Seattle was dead. If Jordan wanted their band to be relevant in the naughties, they needed to like embrace the club culture of like Ibiza and like the electro pop trends of the Asian market. What the f*#k was Tino on, like, seriously? Jordan wanted their music to be real and not some shitty knockoff of NSync or Moby! Why couldn't Tino just shut up and let them be like normal? Tino was still going on and on about his creative process while he dragged Jordan and Yoko back into the club. It must have been like New Year's or somethin' because all the Japanese kids were like screaming and starting to throw rice and shit in the air. "Come on Jordan, man, let's find you an Asian hottie to kiss at midnight! The babes here are gonna love you – you're like 'gaijin' bait bro! " Tino shouted as they waded through a sea of sweaty drunks dancing to the frenzy of more shitty house 'music'. Eventually Tino came to rest in a group of some fat Sumo-wrestler types, nerdy Japanese tech kids and a few hot girls who, Jordan had to admit, were way hotter than Tino's Yoko. "Kinga Shinnen! Kinga Shinnen! Let me introduce you to my buddy Jordan all the way from the US of A! Any of you girls wanna party with this rock star? Come on ladies!" Seriously, why couldn't Tino shut the f*#k up? Just as he was thinking this, Jordan locked eyes with this one cute Japanese girl in the group. She was small, thin and very pale. Her long black hair framed her face like some kinda lunar halo. She had this sweet, innocent look in her huge expressive eyes that reminded Jordan of this girl he had loved in high school…..go, …shi,…san,….ni,…ichi.


	5. Chapter 5

2000

10,…9,…8,…7,…6,... There was no possibility that he could kiss her at midnight. Mathematically speaking there was, like, zero probability. Not because he wouldn't, not because she wouldn't, but because they were in her parents' house like surrounded by her mom, sister and a dozen great aunts and uncles who Brian had never met before. A peck on the cheek would be ok, a quick brush of her lips against his would be socially acceptable, but neither one would do. To kiss her the way he REALLY wanted, they would have to be alone or in her bedroom. He could imagine the shock and disapproval from the elderly relatives if Brian Krakow had taken Angela Chase in his arms as the clock approached midnight and gone full on into some long protracted making out session involving an interlocking of limbs, hands and tongues. Her mom and slightly odd sister would probably gape at them in horror and indignation before Patti Chase finally said something very hospitable and proper like,"My! How the young people do get carried away enjoying themselves! Anyone else for some more Champagne?"She would definitely think that Brian was a perv for the rest of the night and probably forbid Angela from ever letting him in the house again. If only Patti knew the things he did to her daughter in her dorm room in Philadelphia! God! He really was becoming a pervert! Not that it was all his fault, well it probably was his fault for being so sex-obsessed, but Angela was the one who had gone away for four months, two weeks and 6 days to London! This was, like, the first weekend that he had seen her since she got back and he had to spend it in the company of a bunch of geriatrics and future in-laws (God, he hoped they would be future in-laws!). Angela had stayed in Philadelphia studying for her January exams while he had been forced to spend Christmas with his parents visiting his sister in Colorado. Not that he hadn't tried to get out of that! He couldn't stand his sister's husband Tom the idiot ex-marine who spoke to him like he was a ten year old, he couldn't stand the arguments his Dad and Tom would inevitably get into over politics, religion and the upcoming presidential elections at the dinner table, he couldn't stand the snow, the cold, the harsh criticisms his mother would make to his sister over Brian's lack of a 'social life'! Christ! What did she want from him? He was too busy with school, advanced classes, research projects and working as a teaching assistant to have time for a 'social life'. Plus most of her friends were panicking about this Y2K bug thing and calling him for advice as to how to stop their home computers from like massacring them at midnight! The scaremongering in the media was ridiculous! Any responsible industry had a contingency plan in place. Why didn't those idiot journalists understand this? Anyway, with all this nonsense, the only time Brian remotely dedicated to life away from algorithms, program analysis and system configuration was the two weekends every month he spent visiting Angela in Philadelphia. When he was with her there he honestly didn't give two damns about Y2K or the impending end of civilization. He was too busy studying: studying her hair, her face, her eyes, her body. If he thought he was obsessed with her all through high school when he didn't even know what she looked like naked, now it was on a whole other level! Angela Chase's body was like the most perfect mathematical equation ever conceived- it was a mind-boggling amalgamation of perfect symmetry, finesse and inspired structural engineering. Brian had previously thought that calculus was the most perfect embodiment of human intellectual accomplishment but now he had to disagree: Newton had been wrong. Brian felt sorry for the guy because he had lived like 300 years too soon to fully understand and appreciate the perfection that was Angela Chase's body. How sad that poor old Isaac had not felt the full intensity of emotion and want that Brian felt when Angela hooked her leg around his and pulled him in deeper, deeper, further into her core! He would be deep inside her but he wanted to be deeper still, he wanted to go further, further, further, further, he wanted to fuse with, melt into, he wanted to f*#king inhale her! That was absolute convergence , that was integration by parts, Isaac! And it would be hard to imagine a more perfect curve than that of her breast as he ran his fingers over it or a more satisfying area under a curve than the feel of the curve of her spine under his palm when she came. That was the cusp, the highest point, the absolute maximum, Isaac! Life didn't get any better than that! At least he thought it didn't until he had visited her in London and they had traveled to Scotland together. Scotland... There, he had discovered an even more complete and perfect equation: Angela Chase + Alcohol = Sexual Dynamite. They had both drunk like way too much whisky and the combination of a different climate, country, bed and special malts had made her like so uninhibited and experimental that he thought they were gonna like spontaneously combust into each other and simultaneously short circuit all electrical connections in their B&B. In short, Angela Chase was on fire and he was quite happy to be completely consumed by her and reduced to ashes. What other useful purpose did his body really serve if not solely dedicated to the satisfying of Angela Chase? Brian couldn't think of any and as the clock struck midnight and he felt the warm pressure of her hand in his, he decided he didn't care who saw them- he was going to kiss her- REALLY kiss her. He would kiss those "red, red roses" of her lips until they bled …5,…4,…3,…2,…1.


End file.
